Teenage Mutant Ninja Dopeheads
by yinboo
Summary: The brave officers of the Rainbow Falls PD have never seen a case like this. Something smells fishy, and whatever it is, it probably came from the sewers. The turtles themselves have enough to worry about - namely a host of unnecessary cameos.
1. Chapter 1

It has been a quiet night for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Michaelangelo, Raphael, Donatello and Leonardo have gathered around the old television set in the living room; laying back after a long day of crime fighting and enjoying a marathon of The Twilight Zone on the ScyFy channel. Or, were they? There is a peculiar scent and a light gray haze hanging in the air above the turtles' heads.

"Why the hell is it called ScyFy now?" Raphael suddenly asks, interrupting a commercial of some man with a strong British accent advertising some revolutionary cookware of some sort.

Michaelangelo is quick to respond, pecking the white bundle of herbs in his right hand into the nearby ashtray. "I don't know, man, and as long as they keep up with the awesome monster movies, I don't care what they call it."

Raphael hits Michaelangelo on the back of the head. Then, the doorbell rings as if on cue.

"Since when did we have a doorbell, and why would we need one if we're living in a sewer?" Raphael questions,

without diverting his attention from the flickering screen.

"You're just full of questions today, Raph." Leonardo comments, also without looking away from the screen and with a joint drooping out of his mouth.

Raph glares at him for an instant but for whatever reason decides not to act on his violent urges for a change. It could either be because Leo was the only turtle on the team who could potentially kick his ass or because the blue bandana-browed bastard was just out of Raph's reach. In any case, I shouldn't waste to psychoanalyze a mutated adolescent reptillian martial artist - especially one with Raphael's temper.

"Is somebody going to get that?" The disembodied voice of master Splinter yells from the bathroom where, judging by the sound of bubbling sewer water in the pipes overhead, he was taking his monthly shower. You can take my word for it that a shower in the sewer system of New York City is just as disgusting as it sounds.

"It"s probably the pizza we ordered earlier." Donatello says, setting the remote control down on the couch.

Leonardo slaps his forehead. "I totally forgot about that. Didn't we say that it was just a prank call? That there's no way they would deliver to the sewers?"

"Maybe it's the Foot Clan!" Michaelangelo pipes in.

The doorbell rings a second time, prompting the four turtles to rise at once and creep toward the front door.

"Whoever it is, we weren't planning on having any company." Raphael barks, drawing his weapons. The other turtles follow suit.

"I'm like, here to deliver a pizza. One-five-seven, 'the sewers' avenue, right?" The visitor says.

The turtles exchange disbelieving glances.

"Dudes, that sounded like a chick." Michaelangelo so elegantly states the obvious, and what was of course on the minds

of the other three turtles; stoned off their asses and horny as hell.

Cautiously they open the door and peek to see who it is, just to make sure it wasn't just Baxter Stockman operating a voice manipulator module or something

equally stupid. To their combined delight, they see a skinny brunette with short hair and a small pony tail holding a stuffed pizza jacket marked

by a logo featuring a grinning Italiano.

"You guys really like your pizza, huh?" She stops once she gets a good look at the turtles, looking about as surprised as you'd expect

somebody to be seeing four sentient, bipedal turtles wearing headbands in various different colors.

"Five supreme pizzas with extra anchovies?" Leonardo asks, barely able to restrain his eagerness at the prospect. She nods, although it

was apparent by the way she cocks her head and puckers her mouth that the thought was markedly less appetizing to her.

Raphael nudges Leonardo in the armpit. "I'm guessing you've got a secret stash somewhere, 'cuz I'm not gonna pay for this."

Leonardo tilts his head toward Raphael behind him, and whispers something that the pizza delivery girl could not hear.

"What's up?" The delivery girl asks.

"We can't pay for it right now, because our master has the money and he's in the shower, sooo..." Leonardo trails off, scratching his head.

The girl blinks, and shrugs. Her eyes wander and, craning her neck to look into the room beyond the turtles, she spots the television. Her eyes light

up. "What is that I see, in pristine black and white?" She exclaims in a singsong voice, then pushing the pizza jacket into Donatello's chest and nudging

past them, entering the turtles' living room.

"Oh shit, it's The Twilight Zone." The girl shouts excitedly and collapses unto the couch. "I used to watch this all the time."

"Is that you, April?" Splinter calls from the bathroom, making the girl jump.

"No, it's the pizza!" Raphael yells back. He slides a box out of the jacket and takes it to the couch with him, sitting at one corner of the couch so

that the brunette is in the middle.

Raphael opens the box and the delivery girl takes a long grateful whiff of the supreme pizza with extra anchovies. "Well this _is _my last delivery

for the night." She retrieves a slice, glaring at the petty silver fish that decorated it. "But uhh, you guys can have the anchovies." She adds with a smile.

Leonardo takes a seat on the couch at the other side of the girl. "Hey what's your name, anyway?" He asks, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Sam." Is her response, while she carefully plucks each fish from her slice, dropping each into the box with a _thud_. "Geez, why is it so smokey in here?

Did you guys burn something?"

Sam, glancing around the room, upon the two dressers to either end of the couch and atop the dresser next to the television set, she spots the half-burned

white bundles poking out of ashtrays.

Michaelangelo squeezes into the couch between her and Leonardo. "You want a puff, baby?" He pokes his joint at her but she seems reluctant to take it.

"Come on, Mikey, she's still technically on the job." Donatello starts, pausing briefly to take a hit. "You could get her fired."

"Relax, bro. If we're going to keep her waiting, we might as well make it fun."

The sound of bubbling sewer water overhead suddenly subsides, signalling the summation of Splinter's shit shower.

Donatello looks lazily to the other members of the team for support. Raphael is picking something out of the crevices of his shell. Leonardo is scratching his chin, watching the screen intently. He decides to drop the issue, deigning instead for another puff of the joint.

Sam bites her lip, and her eyes remain fixed on the half burned bundle of herbs still being dangled in front of her face.

"Come on, Sam, I guarantee you it'll blow your mind." Michaelangelo implores her - a distant, dazed look in his eyes. "Just like it did mine."

On TV, a monochrome 'alien', or rather, an actor wearing a hairband fixed with a pair of 'antennae' clearly crafted out of bent pieces of cheap wire is discussing the

implications of Earth receiving extraterrestrial visitors. Sam herself was at this point beginning to feel like she had crash landed on an alien planet.

Sam shrugs slightly. She comes off as nervous now, in contrast to her earlier outgoing nature; her voice has quieted down to nothing more than a barely discernable whisper.

"No, I think I'll just take the money and be on my way. It's kind of late and I still have to drive home, you know." From the corner of her eye she glances at the alarm clock precariously perched atop the television set. It's already 8.

Before anything else could be said on the matter, a towering, bipedal rat emerges from around the corner. Splinter, at the great height of six feet was an imposing figure to behold - even wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and one wrapped around his head turban style and his grey fur still moppy from being in the shower. An awkward silence fills the room, as Splinter's gaze shifts sharply between the turtles and Sam.

"Who is this?" Splinter asks with more than a hint of obvious irritation.

"We have some pizza, that needs paying for."

Splinter raises an eyebrow.

...

Detective Strider and Sargeant Egbert of the Rainbow Falls PD emerge from the Rainbow Falls City Sewers with a man they managed to find not far from where the body was located by a maintainance worker.

Said man was sitting in a puddle of sewage and having a conversation with himself about skateboards, pizza and the Beastie Boys. Once back on the surface, the officers take a deep,

long breath of the Brooklyn smog (God, it smelled something fierce down there), and shove to the ground the rotten bastard who made them have to wade through a tunnel of shit to grab him. The man from the sewers seems totally oblivious to everything, and continues his nonsensical rant even despite a broken, bloody nose recieved during the previous scuffle.

"I wish we could have gotten him to ditch the costume. It stinks." Egbert orders him, and yanks the perp back to his feet by the scruff of his cloth outer garment. And yeah, _sure_ it was a costume, but what the hell kind of costume was this? It was so thoroughly soaked in sewage and clotted by years of mildew that it really exercised your gag reflex just to be in the guy's presence.

"He looks like a frigging Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle." Detective Dave Strider says, thus answering my question. Egbert squints his eyes. "It's some weird cartoon my kid used to watch."

"Hey, shut up already!" Egbert shouts, interrupting the perp's diatribe on his favorite episodes of Baywatch with a swift knee to the back of the neck. He grunts and stops for a minute, but then goes on again as if nothing happened.

Detective Rose Lalonde approaches the two, after her discussion with an EMT technician. "She was beaten by a blunt object repeatedly and then dropped off in the sewers." She glances at the man in the weird costume. "Is this the man that maintainance officer witnessed at the scene?"

"Yeah, but he's not carrying any I.D." Strider snaps, looking down at the costumed looney as though he were some bothersome insect. "Probably homeless, which would coincide with the other assaults." He removes a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lights one up. "Makes me wonder why they haven't already sent a SWAT team down there to shake these boys up."

"Definitely the weirdest case we've ever worked." Lalonde interjects, and Strider nods in agreement. A combined twelve years on the force was still not enough to prepare them for these shenanigans.

Egbert's eyes glow up, when he suddenly remembers something. "Oh yeah, here's something that might make you guys happy." He says, then hands a pair of nunchuks over to Lalonde.

"He had these bad boys on him."

She deftly analyzes the nunchucks, then reveals to Strider the traces of blood featured on its wooden surface. "This type of blunt weapon is consistent with many of the victim's bruises."

"Many? So not all?" Strider asks, flicking off some bits of the burned tobacco and wrapping paper.

"There were also cuts, from what I could see. We'll have to wait for a proper examination."

"Or an autopsy." Egbert and Lalonder cut their eyes at him. "She looked pretty banged up, just sayin'."

"It's hard to believe that this crazy sonofabitch is capable of such a thing." Egbert adds with a mournful look on his face. His inexperience was evident, compared to the star homicide detectives - they knew exactly what the crazies were capable of.

Detective Lalonde, Sargeant Egbert and Detective Strider look down at the babbling perp again - could this deranged lunatic be the break in the infamous New York City sewer murders they'd been looking for? In any case, they were too late for the victim. As they dwell on the violent details of the case, the ambulance dispatched to the scene of the crime is speeding off to the Rainbow Falls General Hospital emergency room. It carries a thin, pretty brunette who is now struggling for her life. Her name is Sam Manson.


	2. Chapter 2

Sargeant Egbert hated departmental meetings. Ever since bodies began showing up in and along the sewers, they were being called at least twice a week. He shows up five minutes late holding his third cup of coffee from the rec room that morning, hoping to dear God that he wasn't walking into another three-hour lecture from one of those 'tough on crime' types from the Central Attorney's Office.

To the blurry eyed sargeant's good fortune, he quickly pieces together that today's meeting was being handled by his long time chumps since his days in the academy, Detective Lalonde and Detective Strider. Behind them on the projector screen is a map of New York City with the layout of the sewers highlighted in blue. Strider stands by the map with his red marker at the ready, while Lalonde addresses the audience made up of police officers, detectives from Homicide, and undercover agents wearing disquises that ranged from the ever- popular '80s interpretation of street thugs to everyday janitors and the fine female officers of the ongoing prostitution bust. Egbert shifts his chair around, trying to get a better visual of Sargeant Debbie Bryant's epic rack in that halter top. On second thought, this might not be so bad after all.

"Now, there have been a total of five sewer-related incidents of assault and or murder reported to the police since May the sixth, of this year." Lalonde says. She nods at Strider who then draws a big red 'X' over the exact locations where the murders took place. "That was three months ago and it's been a tough case to crack ever since. However, Strider and I have as of yesterday come across new information." Lalonde clicks a button on the remote to switch to the next slide, showing mugshots of the man in the weird costume who was arrested on suspicion of attempted murder yesterday.

Egbert nudges the elbow of an officer dressed in a cheap Captain Jack Sparrow costume bought from a local Party Mart for the recently conceived Piracy bust. "I helped bring him in." He brags.

"This man was discovered at the scene of the most recent attack. We believe there may be others like him, living in or around the sewers." Lalonde drones on.

Looking down at her, Egbert couldn't help but appreciate how cute Lalonde is. Definitely not your average female cop, that's for sure - thin, blonde, delicately featured - and oh, she had the sweetest little lips. Half the time he couldn't even understand what she was saying but wowzers, the way her lips moved was simply magical. Still, what could he do when her partner Strider was always around? Word on the grapevine was that they were a couple and hell if he was going to make any moves on the woman of Veteran Homicide Detective David Strider. She was way out of ambitionless patrolman Egbert's league anyway and he knew it.

"Sargeant Egbert." She suddenly calls his name, jarring the hapless daydreaming virgin back to reality.

"Yes, sir?" He blurts out and does a salute, earning a few chuckles from the other officers.

"You're being assigned to the team handling the Sewer case." She repeats herself, totally unamused. "We believe you're well acquainted with what we're dealing with here, and could lend some valuable eyes and ears to the investigation."

"Sooo, who's leading the charge on this one?" Egbert asks, squinting in wait of the S-word.

Detective Rose Lalonde crosses her arms. "As was stated, I will be heading this investigation."

Egbert puts a hand to his mouth, barely able to contain his excitement. Just he and Lalonde all by themselves he thought, not at that time realizing teams are usually made up of more than two individuals. What a dweeb.

...

Donatello unplugs the cable box and plugs it back in but the television screen remains darkened.

"This piece of shit still isn't working." He complains, unaware of the fact that the power cord had been cut during last night's fighting. "We could be watching Cops right now."

"Shut up, Donnie." Raphael groans, rubbing the fresh bruise on his head that was partially covered by an ice pack. He is laying down on the sofa, taking up its full length. "Just fix the cable box and go do your nerd stuff somewhere else."

Donnie glares at him, but doesn't say anything back. Instead, he'll probably even the score by getting a little crazy with the baking soda next time they sniffed a line together. Speaking of illegal narcotics...

"If Mikey doesn't get back with our dope real soon, _he'll _be the one in a lot of pain." Leo says, hopelessly fingering through the remnants of a once mighty joint in the ashtray next to the lounge chair. He glances at pizza boxes strewn across the living room floor. He picks one up and wistfully throws it open. To his pleasure, there was one slice of Anchovie Supreme left over. "Do you think that Sam chick got home alright?" He asks then takes a huge bite from the cold yet suspiciously moist slice of pizza. Take note, kids - it probably isn't a good idea to eat a slice of pizza you find lying on the ground in the sewers.

"Who cares." Raphael snarls and winces from another jolt of pain courtesy of his head wound. "Damn, that hurts." Donatello suppresses a snicker.

"She seemed like a nice girl is all." Leonardo reflects, a slimey string of mozarella cheese connecting his mouth to the bitemark on the pizza.

"The kind of girl I'd like to get under my shell all day every day if you know what I'm saying." Raphael says with a devilish grin then laughs, wincing again. "It mostly hurts when I laugh."

Donatello snickers. "I'm sure any girl would be just as good for you, Raph."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Raphael hollers while the other two laugh. Peeved, the raging reptile instinctively reaches for the nearest ashtray but his fingers fail to procure even the pettiest puffable object. This was his fourth time reaching and finding nothing to smoke today, each time dying a little more inside. "This is beginning to really bum me out."

"Don't worry, Mikey should be back soon." Leonardo reassures him, although in his mind he of course had his doubts. It was Michaelangelo - there was always a slightly higher than normal chance that something might go wrong.

"Yeaaah, 'don't worry' and 'Mikey' _don't_ go so well together." Raphael says, unconsciously bringing voice to the leader's worries.

Suddenly the doorbell rings, nearly making the turtles out of their shells. _Could it be that an angel has finally arrived to replenish their depleted stash of beloved bulging burnables? _"It's April." The girl at the door calls, rolling her eyes when she hears the obligatory chorus of groans respond from inside. "Still waiting on Mikey?"

Donatello opens the door a crack and once confirming April's identity, allows her passage.

"Mikey would usually be back by now." Leonardo says as Raphael sits up to give April room on the sofa. Donatello tries to coolly slip in beside the attractive redhead.

"Did you pass the skate park on your way here?" Donatello asks with a cracking voice. If a turtle of the teenage mutant ninja variety or otherwise could have sweaty palms, he'd have them right now.

"Yeah. I didn't see him there." She answers, shrugging. "And really, it's kind of hard to miss a skateboarding turtle."

_Now_ the turtles were starting to get worried. Mikey always went to the skatepark on Mondays to hit up the lowbrow dealers that based their operations there; always on the lookout for an impressionable kid aiming to become the next Tony Hawk. Even he would have no trouble fighting through those losers if things got hairy. Or, you know, if they decided to overprice him or if he just didn't feel like coughing any cash up that day for what often only amounted to bundles of easily available Italian cooking herbs. After all, who's going to be bothered about drug dealers that hang around a children's skate park getting the snot kicked out of them? Mondays were a sweet deal for the turtles so they could not imagine how he would possibly screw things up.

"I'll try contacting him on the T-phone." Donatello announces, taking a palm-sized circular flip phone with a cover with a design that resembled a turtle shell. Of course. Donatello somehow manages to punch in the right keys and dial Mikey's number despite having incredibly, cartoonishly large fingers. He holds the ingeniously named T-phone up to his uhh...ear _hole_ and waits. It is a while before somebody finally picks up.

"What's wrong, Donnie?" Leonardo asks, noticing his brother's face turn a slightly paler shade of green.

Donatello switches it to speaker, so the others could hear. Whoever picked up the phone was definitely not Mikey. Whoever it is, they had a message for them.

A voice with a thick New York accent - the screeching of nails against a chalkboard would be more preferable - crackles through the small speaker. "We have your brother, and will return him to you if you bring the seven grand that you owe us, in cash, to the pier at ten'o'clock tonight." The turtles exchange disbelieving glances. The voice of somebody in the background, evidently with a terrible lisp, breaks through, saying "Yesss, bring ussss ssssseven thoussssand in casssssh to the pier, at sssseven - I mean, ten." But, the man with the hideous accent was not finished yet. He was yet to make his most hideous demand of all. "Oh and uh, bring some tawtle soup. I promised my boys we'd have some tonight one way or another."

"Fuck you, pal!" Raphael shouts at the phone, compelling Leo and April to attempt to restrain him.

"Ah, what was that boys? You don't think you can hold off until dinnertime? You're hungry right _now_?" The voice taunts. A dopey sounding "No I'm not" slips through followed by a firm "Shut it, ya meathead" from the threatening New Yorker. Haha sorry, calling him that was a bit redundant.

"Okay, okay. You've got yourself a deal. We'll be there." Leonardo says, surprising the turtles and April. "Where the heck are you gonna get that much money?" Donatello asks in a whisper with his hand over the mouthpiece. Leonardo shakes his head and flashes his fist to the delight of Raphael, who always approved of the most violent course of action in any situation.

"Glad we could work this thing out all peaceful like. And you better not think of trying anything funny neither because there are five of us but only three of you." The voice adds threateningly. "Remember: pier, ten, bring tawtle soup and seven grand or else we's gonna eat your brother with a side of chow mein." After that, the call disconnects.

The turtles sit down in silence for a moment to let it all sink in. What made today different from any other day? Why weren't they swimming in marijuana right now? Who were the clowns that somehow got ahold of Michaelangelo, and what did he mean by the turtles owing them seven grand? There wasn't a lot of time to think - it was already six.

"They must be from the skatepark, finally cracking down on collecting all that dope money we owe them." Donatello infers aloud, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But I didn't think they were any gangs operating in that area. Is there one we didn't know about, that we've actually been stealing from all this time?"

"Hey, Donnie." Raph says.

"What is it?"

"Fix the damn TV will ya?" Raph growls, thumping his fist against the sofa's springy armrest.

While Donnie begrudgingly resumes his misguided efforts on getting the TV to work, April gives Leonardo a fiery look.

"I'm coming with you guys." She says with finality. "I haven't gone out in a while."

"Are you sure about this? They might have guns." Leonardo warns her, but April remains resolved.

"Relax." She says, leaning back in the sofa comfortably. "Even if they have guns, they sound like a bunch of idiots."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three : Showdown with a Side of Turtle Soup, Part One**

"I am _not_ no idiot, tawtle!" Ace yells, pointing the nose of his pistol at the audacious reptile. "And I have half a mind to blow your brains out right now! Don't think I won't do it!"

Michaelangelo, although currently being held captive with his wrists and feet tied behind his back, was as boisterous as always.

"You should have left it at 'I have half a mind'. Idiot." He counters, earning a fist bump from the sickly scaly looking fellow next to him. In fact, they all looked more like a bunch of potheads than organized criminals with their lima bean green colored skin, swollen red eyes, greasy black hair and scuzzy yellow teeth. From what Mikey had observed, there were five of them in total: the boss man with the stupid shades and ear piercingly annoying New York accent, the dude with the bad lisp he's skated with before on several occasions, a big dumb one keeping watch with the hispanic one who was three feet, three inches tall max and this one guy who just stands around acting like he has ...problems.

Ace is visibly annoyed by the insubordination. "Yo, who's side are you on anyway Snake?" He asks the unruly underling.

"Sssssorry bossss, but that one wassss pretty good." Snake hisses, sounding sorry. Michaelangelo sneaks a wink at him.

"Crack all the jokes you want, but your time's almost up." He flashes his watch at the hostage. It read five minutes to ten. "You know what happens if they don't make it here with the money in time, don't ya?"

"Don't worry. My bros will be here any second now to pound the green and the ugly out of you." Michaelangelo says confidently.

Ace smirks. This guy really talked a big game but ever since he signed on with the Rainbow Falls mafia and they gave him his sweet six inches of hot steel, he and his boys were unstoppable. Well, unstoppable in the sense that the local police force had bigger fish to fry than a bunch of petty shoplifters and chronic solicitors but you couldn't tell _him_ that. No, to him the Gangrene Gang was the real deal and since the higher-ups were starting to take notice, they were given their first official mob business.

"Nuh-uh boss, but there's a girl and she haz a bag with something what smells real nice." The big lunk on lookout responds.

"A girl? What does she look like?"

Big Billy cracks a wide smile. "Real perdy, boss."

Judging by the shameless bulge in his overly tight denim jeans, Ace seemed particularly interested in this last tidbit of information. He slinks off to investigate the matter himself, leaving Snake in charge of the prisoner. The fifth gang member with a hunched back, friar-style haircut and the weirdest damn eyes you'd ever see suddenly appears out of thin air. He stands there, staring at Michaelangelo quietly without any discernable expression on his face. He was beginning to make Mikey sweat.

"I want to sssssee this chick too ssssso I'll leave Grubber in charge of you." Snake says and slithers away after Ace. "Oh and no hard feelingssss, right Mike?" He calls back.

But Mikey wasn't paying attention - he was focused on the creepy little green man before him; watching him, unblinking.

"Dude can you stay out of my personal-" He starts to say, but is cut off when the weirdo who apparently goes by the name 'Grubber' blows a raspberry. He then does so repeatedly, as if he were trying to communicate something. Specks of spittle fly into Michaelangelo's face as Grubber draws closer and, for the first time since he was captured, the teenage mutant ninja turtle was in fear of his life. "Hey man, back off." The shaken sewer-dweller yells, but the one called Grubber is undaunted; his pupils glimmering with a hint of malice or, was it pure, unadulterated madness? "Aaaaugh!"

...

April O'Neil sets down the plastic bag she was carrying, as the members of the gang Gangrene sans Grubber begin to circle her like a pack of wolves. Rather, a party of petty pitpockets parched for pussy.

"Hola senorita." The little Hispanic guy of the group known as Lil Arturo greets her, brandishing a butterfly knife. "A little far from home, aren't you?" April cocks her hip and looks him dead in the eye. Big Billy looks on from the background with a toothy grin, occasionally erupting into giggles while he thinks about all the fun he'd soon get to have with his newest toy.

Lil Arturo snickers, jabbing the knife at April repeatedly. He might have been trying to intimidate her this way but because of his small stature, it was impossible for the healthy High School Senior trained in martial arts by a rat-human hybrid kung fu master who lives in the sewers to take him seriously.

"Now, either you come with me or I'll have to-" The poor pygmy is cut off by a sneaker to the face followed by a roundhouse that sends him airborne. His weapon falls to the ground before he does. It takes a few seconds for the brutal beatdown to register in Big Billy's head, at which point he looks around frantically, then ducking behind the emerging presences of Snake and Ace.

They examine the scene of Lil Arturo laying unconscious, his limbs sprawled out like a curiously green starfish with scraggly lip hair.

Ace whistles and shakes his head disapprovingly as he slowly draws his pistol.

"Accce, what are you doing?"

April watches in horror as Ace fires a single bullet into Lil Arturo's forehead. Within seconds, the former member of the Gangrene Gang bleeds out unto the concrete and despite Snake's frantic efforts to assist his fallen ally, Lil Arturo is dead within seconds. Ace remains cool throughout all this as he strides toward the invading redhead, gun pointed forward. He does not stop until he brings his face up so close to her own that she could feel his hot breath down her neck, and could experience the rancid effect that years of Vietnamese cuisine and tobacco have on your breath.

"Those were some pretty nice moves back there." Ace compliments her, whilst delicately twirling some strands of her hair around the gun barrel. "Babe, you could take Lil Arturo's place with moves like that."

April is now feeling about as afraid as you would be about having a loaded gun held up to your face, but she tries her damnest to not let it show. "No thanks. I'm only here to deliver something."

While in the process of looking her over, Ace glances down at her feet and notices for the first time the plastic bag she had brought with her.

"What's in the bag, eh?"

Before you can say _what a dumbass_, April grabs Ace by the wrist and skillfully swats the firearm out of his hand the way she was taught a thousand times by Splinter to do when combatting an enemy wielding a weapon. April kicks the gun out of reach then kicks Ace between the legs, the way her friend June taught her to when combatting a sexist jerkwad. As the cocky gang leader in shades crumbles to his knees crying in pain April announces proudly, "That's your fricking turtle soup." Then smashes the styrofoam container within the bag beneath her foot, spraying turtle soup everywhere.

Snake and Big Billy attempt to flee following the humiliating defeat of their boss but are halted by three turtles that were very angry about having their Monday ritual interfered with. To make a short fight even shorter, lets just say Snake winds up getting wedged in a certain region of Big Billy I wouldn't be able to describe in polite terms.

"Good job, April." Leonardo says, squeezing her on the shoulder. "But there was no sign of Mikey anywhere."

Raph seizes the defeated Ace by the shirt collar. "Were you the jackass on the phone?" He asks, to which Ace responds with a limp nod. Grinning, Raphael punches him square in the face - with enough force to shatter his sunglasses. "Okay, now tell us where Mikey is!"

Sputtering blood out of his mouth from a broken nose, Ace blurts, "He wus un the pier und mu mun Snake wus wutching him."

"What was that?!" Raph pulls back his fist to unleash another blow.

"Grubber mussst have him." Snake says quickly, his words echoing off of Big Billy's ass cheeks. "Grubber wasss watching him lassst."

Raphael reluctantly lets Ace off the hook and exchanges glances with Leonardo. "Who the hell is Grubber?"

"Well, there's supposed to be five of them, right?" Donatello says, examining the chaotic aftermath of the turtles versus Gangrene Gang showdown. "But there are only four here."

"I ulways knew Grubber wus u smurt one." Ace sneers, earning him another kick to the nads.

**To be continued... **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four : Showdown with a Side of Turtle Soup, Part Two**

'The pier' was located along what was once the busiest harbor in New York this side of the Hudson river. That was until during the final years of prohibition when the Fedsfinally took down mob bigwigs Franco "Slip'n'Slide" Fettucini and Lorenzo "Little Wanger" Manicotti who based a profitable smuggling ring here; at one point raking in thousands by the boatload. Today the port facilities lay mostly unused and, unfortunately for the turtles, full of potential hiding places for the little green man toting their brother to take advantage of.

Earlier, it was determined via rock-paper-scissors and The Laws of Forcing a Romantic Pairing that Donatello team up with April to inspect the abandoned storehouses and garages while Leo and Raph maintained a bird's eye vigilance of the outside. To the purple bandana browed ninja turtle this was the closest he had ever come to being on a date so despite the grout, the enveloping cobwebs and the omnipresent odor of a receeding tide it wasn't _so_ bad. But oh, did his tiny reptllian heart lust for her now that he had her all alone but, alas as the cliche goes, she was so close and yet so far away. But as April shines her flashlight into an old boatyard, Donnie has a stunning revelation. He knew just what the situation called for.

"Let's check it out in there." He says, already pulling her into the shadows.

A row of small vessels are situated along the narrow dock, rocking in rhythm with the gently rippling waters.

"Do you think he might try making his getaway on one of these?" The bored sounding broad asks, directing her flashlight at a yacht - 'The Sea Hag' moored there. However, Donatello is too occupied with digging into the various crevices of his shell. Knowing these crevices were like pockets to the turtles, April doesn't interrupt his search for whatever it was. For a brief moment she wonders about what she was doing with her life to have been aware of such an intimate detail about her sewer dwelling companions.

"Found it." He says finally, proudly revealing to her a plastic bundle of one hundred percent premium quality Hawaiian-grown Mary Jane. She cuts her eyes at him - his great unveiling only made her examine her life choices even more critically. "It's my secret stash. If my bros found out about it earlier, they'd have screwed me over big time."

Showcasing incredible dexterity yet again with those humongous fingers, Donatello unravels the bundle and plucks out a clump of herb. After a brief smell test, he rolls it into one of the white papers that were conveniently included with the stuff because Donnie, of course, was the genius of the team. He offers April what was left of the bundle as he places the newly formed spliff between his lips then lights up.

"There's a time and place for everything, Don." She nags the dope-driven dingdong. "We're searching for your kidnapped brother for pete's sake."

He takes an extended drag followed by a long, grateful sigh. "I know you could go for one too, so why not?"

She doesn't deny it. Might I remind you, just moments ago she had her comfort zone severely breached by a psycophath with bad breath wielding a gun, right after he killed someone in front of her with said gun. With a shrug and an embarrassed look, she accepts the clump and imitates the way Donnie rolled it into the white paper. Anyone watching would recognize that she had less experience with the big money herb than he did and, little did they know, as April'O'Neill lights up and takes her first puff, somebody _was_ watching them from the safety of the deck of the very _Sea Hag _thathad beenspotlighted previously.

They sit cross-legged with their backs against a wooden column.

"I've never had to fight somebody holding a gun before. I was scared, okay." She confesses, her face flushed red from the heavensmoke that now clouded her lungs. However, it was a guilty pleasure. "I haven't done this in a long time. I've been trying to get clean and make something of myself, you know?" She says, pausing to examine the spliff between her fingers sadly.

"Aren't you feeling better already though?"

She has to think long and hard about that one before coming up with an answer. "I guess I do. But I just know I'll regret this later, when I end up wanting more. Then I'll just get into all the same trouble I used to. Except this time, it won't just be juvie." She looks away and crinkles her brow as memories come back to her. "The last thing I want is to be locked up forever for doing something stupid. I would be better off dead."

Donatello summons up the courage to lay a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her, inadvertently smearing loose ashes on her shirt in the process. "Oh sorry about that, I uhh..." He stammers.

"It's alright. This is a crappy shirt anyway." She reassures him, smiling down at the smiling pink rabbit mascot decorating her bustline. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing special. Just that," He stops, rubbing his head nervously. "Out with it." She urges him.

"...if you ever need a fix again, I'll hook you up."

"Hook me up? Are you trying to sound cool or something?" She laughs but, quickly realizing that he was in fact being serious, she quiets down again. "Sounds good to me, Donnie."

He breathes in then exhales a cloud of smoke. They both watch as it wafts and whirls in the cool breeze and then finally begins its gentle ascent into the voidal eternity of a starless night sky. He clasps his slimy green fingers around her delicate, painted ones and to his surprise she doesn't withdraw. Right when it seemed to Donatello that things couldn't get any better, he spots something moving in the sky.

"Are those lights? Could it be a plane?" Donatello runs outside and strains his eyes to get a better look. "No, it's a helicopter! The mob might be sending backup. April, we should-"

_Click_. Donatello turns to face April but instead finds himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. Holding it is a man of small stature with skin that matched the color and consistency of a pickle and eyes that protuded from and proceeded to curve along the slope of his forehead. It was Grubber of the Gangrene Gang and in his other arm he holds a struggling April.

"You. Put your hands in the air and follow me." Grubber commands a flabbergasted Donatello. "Make any sudden movements and I'll have no choice but to shoot and possibly kill you."

Donnie complies reluctantly, following each step the hunkering hobgoblin makes outside, under the blinding glow of a police ceaseless _whuffuwhuffuwhuffu_ of helicopter blades grows near deafening as the porcelain white FBI special transfer copter lands atop one of the warehouses where Raph and Leo, who had themselves been busy tapping into their own secret stashes, now lay facefirst on the ground; hands cuffed. The red dots of multiple laser guided rifles polka dot their heads ominously. Donatello watches an officer stride past with a knock-kneed Ace in his custody, followed by four struggling to morandize the ever oblivious Big Billy who was still unnaturally united with Snake. Police squad cars block off every street and armed SWAT team members stand with their rifles poised on every rooftop. There was absolutely no way out. Don surveys a woman with short hair surrounded by armed guards step out of the helicopter and survey the scene.

Then time seems to slow to a crawl.

Sensing a commotion, Donnie turns to see April pull away from the reach of her captor and perform the same technique she employed against Ace to knock the pistol out of Grubber's grasp. Then, for a split second - a split second that Donatello would swear he'll never forget for the rest of his life - she looks up and seems to appreciate for the first time the dire situation they were in and freezes, but it was too late.

Donatello watches helplessly as April is torn apart by a barrage of bullets.

**To be continued... **


End file.
